


All in the Plans

by Letterblade



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Begging, Blindfolds, Cunning Plans, Dom/sub, Fucking Machines, M/M, Suspension, a very confusing night for Mitsunari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitsunari's the kind of man who likes to be pushed to his limits. Also the kind of man who copes with a bloody flogging better than a nice lay. Which means Motochika can't help but come up with a few plans for how to make things interesting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in the Plans

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a bondage drabble and got...really, really out of hand. Set sometime rather after Motochika's green route in SB3, as per usual.

There was this particular look in Mitsunari's eyes that would never, ever get old, at least as far as Motochika was concerned. He'd never seen the like in any other man--probably because most men weren't terminally, hopelessly unaware that they actually had a body that felt things rather than some mysterious construct that allowed one to tear about and kill forever and required neither food nor sleep. At least he'd eat on command, Motochika had eventually discovered, albeit with disgruntlement. Which was good for times like this, wouldn't do to have him pass out before he was done with him. And oh, he had plans.

Right now, Mitsunari was making the oh-shit-I-have-a-body face because most of his bony naked self was snugly bundled up in rope and Motochika was raking nails over one nipple and watching him croak in surprise with his eyes impossibly huge. On his knees where he was happiest--for Mitsunari definitions of happiness--arms folded in the small of his back and laced into a harness that spanned shoulders, ribs, hips, cinched tight and inescapable. Motochika'd put good money on _Ieyasu_ not being able to wiggle his way out of his ropework, and he could probably straight-up tear a single strand of the stuff, Mitsunari certainly wasn't going anywhere. Nor did he want to. His legs were still free, that was making him jittery, but there was only so much that could be done about that right now, they'd have to come later.

Being helplessly bound, Motochika'd found, had a nicely calming effect on Mitsunari, once he adjusted to it. Lucky for him that he likes tying people up.

"Lord Motochika--I beg you, allow me to ask what it is you wish of me--?"

Fussing, right on cue. Motochika folded a hand over the back of his neck, dug nails in around his knobby spine--a convenient off switch he'd discovered a little while ago. Mitsunari made a raw noise in the back of his throat and jolted in the ropes, and if he was a tiny bit less tense after that jolt, all the better.

"I wish you to feel pleasure, that is all you need do right now." He grinned, toothy. "And I'll make sure you get plenty of it, worry not." Well, that was hardly high on Mitsunari's list of worries, he knew, but still.

He all but vibrated in the ropes in confusion. "To what end?" Voice half a growl, indignant, but he knew better than to be put off by that by now.

"Because it pleases me." Oversimplified, perhaps, but some things needed to be for him. Because he could damn well use this, Motochika figured. And because watching Mitsunari fly apart in the good way had become a new hobby--and like any hobby it'd left him lying awake in the wee hours, grinning in his hammock and drawing up blueprints in his brain. He loomed over him, scruffed fingers up through his hair, back down his neck, and felt him shiver against his leg, all wire and bone. The kind of shivering that came as he started to realize, belated, that he really _was_ on his knees, bound, with a big tall guy pressing him down and giving him orders--Mitsunari heaven. Not that he didn't sound disgruntled regardless, he always did, but Motochika could tell.

"Then--then use me as you will--"

He wasn't _quite_ in the best position for bowing, hands behind him like that, but gods help him, he tried. Muscles stood out like whipcords in his thighs as he braced for purchase on the gently rolling deck--Motochika was beginning to doubt he'd ever get his sea legs, really, that would require adjusting to something he couldn't quite predict and this was _Mitsunari_. He hooked a thumb easily into the turns of rope beneath his shoulder blades and steadied him, and that was another shudder as he realized how readily he could be moved about, even picked up bodily, whole torso harnessed and ready for transport.

All in the plans.

"Oh, I intend to. And thank you. What you offer me is precious."

He always made the _best_ choked little noises when he praised him. "Lord Motochika--you needn't flatter me--"

"No flattery here." He dragged him up by the harness to sink teeth into the side of his neck, catching his hair with his other hand to keep him there. Mitsunari groaned, derailed, and shook against his legs. Strained with all his strength at the ropes as he thrashed, found it was in vain and pressed close against him with a strangled croak of surrender. "All right, up you go, let's get you ready."

Mitsunari fumbled his long, long legs under him, let Motochika lift him to his feet--hell, he was so thin he could pretty much pick him up one-handed. "How should I prepare myself?"

"Stand, for now, and do what you can to relax." Motochika slid off another coil of rope from where he'd flung it over his shoulder, undid it with a flick of his wrist. "And tell me if anything hurts."

"You need not trouble yourself with--"

"That's an order."

Mitsunari made some choking noise, bowed his head, shuffled his bare feet on the worn-smooth deck. "Forgive me--"

"Long as you behave." Motochika leaned in to kiss his shoulder, fond, pressing as close as he could as he started looping rope under turns of the harness, tugging hard to make sure it held. "Just do as I say and let yourself feel what I've got in store for you, all right?"

Mitsunari exhaled, bowed further--that maybe even relaxed him a hair, the doing as he said part. "Yes, Lord Motochika."

"Good boy." Motochika flung the end of the rope through a sturdy ring in the ceiling in one practiced motion, ran it back down under the harness. Handy that he was bowing, even; he kept one hand on the back of Mitsunari's neck for a moment, holding him there, as he fed rope through. Needed both hands eventually, passing it through a few more times, knotting it snug enough to hold a mainsail in a high wind. Not yanking him up, not yet, but tied just so to catch him if he pitched forward, leave him hanging level with the deck at about waist height.

And the pitching forward would come soon enough, once he strung up his legs. Mitsunari was quiet, hands clenching and unclenching in the rope as he struggled to relax. Until he _gasped_ as Motochika picked up one long wiry leg and most of his body weight canted forward into the ropes. Bare toes of his other foot trying to dig into the deck planks. Motochika worked quick and easy, lashing his ankle to the top of his thigh, holding his leg snug as he jolted and shuddered in surprise. Part of why he liked being bound so much, he'd wager, he wasn't actually much able to hold still, no matter how he wanted to be a good boy.

"The rope's got you," he murmured, patting his thigh. Tied it off to a ring on the wall, anchoring his folded leg to one side. He wasn't going to leave him hanging free and swinging, that would probably be a little much for him, he liked stability. Besides, he needed his legs spread wide, wouldn't do to not have easy access.

When he pulled up his other leg and the ground fell away from Mitsunari's world, he made some strange strangled noise, half confusion and half exultation, and went limp for a moment. Motochika hummed, grinned, petted his leg as he bound it, tracing lines of muscle and sinew. Tied that one off too, and it was done, Mitsunari strung up in a tidy little package, frog-legged with his ass on display and eminently available, framed by the strands of rope that harnessed his hips. Not even much room to swing back and forth as he squirmed or the ship rolled. Nothing but rope and thin air and Motochika's hands wandering over him. He'd stuck him in a net before, had to more than once, but this was a whole different kettle of fish. Mitsunari stared at some spot on the wall with huge eyes and only remembered to breathe when he moaned and instinct kicked in.

"How're you doing?" Motochika murmured, dragging fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck.

Mitsunari croaked and butted his head into his hand and mumbled, indignant, "I would not be so ungrateful as to be displeased with your indulgences."

As good as he'd get, he supposed. He circled him, crouched to catch his face in his hands and look him in the eyes. "Damn, you look good like this," he murmured. Raw surrender creeping across Mitsunari's face, a flustered twist to his mouth as he tried to turn his face away--hell, Mitsunari could pretty much never handle being told he was hot, the idea of this body thing he was stuck with being attractive to others was pretty advanced for him. "No, don't hide from me," Motochika murmured, catching his chin, and Mitsunari's eyes went very wide, his breath stopped in his throat, cornered and boxed in and exulting in it.

Not that he could hide much, strung up like this. Motochika couldn't quite see his cock from where he was, but he didn't need to, there's no way he wasn't hard, not with how his whole body was thrumming with arousal. A dark flush sudden on his pale face, what he'd call embarrassment in anyone else, but it was Mitsunari, it was more like confusion.

"I--won't, Lord Motochika, I am yours," Mitsunari blurted out, a little too late, barely meeting his eye. "I am--happy to please you so."

"Yeah, you're mine," Motochika breathed, and brushed his bangs aside to kiss his forehead. "Good boy."

The _best_ choked little noises. Motochika let him roll in it for a moment, didn't move away, added eventually, "I'm gonna give you something to help you focus, all right?"

Mitsunari stirred, bowed his head, which mostly meant jamming his forehead against Motochika's. "Such kindness--would be more than I deserve."

"Hah, don't thank me just yet." He fished out a length of heavy dark silk from his pocket, smoothed it over his hand before shoving Mitsunari's bangs back. "You're going to be feeling a lot tonight, even a thing or two you've never had before, I want you to feel every bit of pleasure I've got in store for you with no distractions."

Mitsunari had just, just enough self-awareness to look faintly alarmed--after all, this was a man who handled a bloody flogging better than getting a blowjob. "I will--serve you in any way I can..."

His voice trailed off as Motochika blindfolded him, turned into some keening noise in the back of his throat. No struggling, just going very still. Motochika waved his hand in front of his face, smoothed his bangs back down.

"Lord Motochika--"

"I'm right here, I ain't going anywhere." He ran his hands over Mitsunari's shoulders, taut wiry muscle between strands of rope. "And neither are you, yeah?"

"I--would not wish to even if I could--"

"Mm, good. See, your body's all mine right now--every move you make, everything you see and feel, is up to me." He slid his hand further back, reached to grope his ass, and Mitsunari groaned and squirmed in the ropes, like every touch caught him like a blow out of nowhere--not that being blindfolded changed that much, really, it was Mitsunari. "And I'm going to do all sorts of things with what's mine, and I want you to feel every bit of it. No distractions, no hiding from it."

Mitsunari shuddered with arousal at that, raw and sudden--yeah, Motochika figured that would get him in the right frame of mind. "Do--do as you will, then, my Lord, I would give you my sight or anything else if you wished it."

"Oh, I do." Gods, this look was even better--lips parted, almost transcendent. Would be pretty to see his eyes, but the way a blindfold made sensation more inescapable was worth it. Mitsunari wasn't straining against the ropes anymore, he hung like a scruffed cat, hard as hell and panting. Motochika slid a broad hand down his belly, palmed his cock almost lazily, curled fingers over the head, a friendly hello-how-are-you, and Mitsunari _writhed_ into it, or tried to. Gave a choking moan.

"Forgive me--I beg you to allow me to ask forgiveness for my unseemly--"

Motochika laughed, low and warm, caught his head by the hair with his other hand to drag him into a kiss, swallowing his words and a startled squawk along with them. Mitsunari barely managed to kiss back, mostly teeth, breathless. He pulled back after a moment to murmur, "Forgiven. And absolved. I don't find this unseemly, Mitsunari, I welcome it. It's exactly what I want to see in you right now. As I said. I wish you to feel pleasure."

"If it pleases you--!" He managed to get that out around another strangled moan as Motochika stroked him, long and slow. An indignant moan, given that sins were never absolved that readily in Mitsunari land, even if they were imaginary Mitsunari land sins. _Especially_ if they were. But he wasn't aiming to give him a thrashing tonight, even if that might be easier for him to deal with, this was all about finding other ways to drive him crazy.

"Oh, it pleases me." He'd pulled him up a little too high to demonstrate readily, but there was the crate he'd been sitting on while retooling a few things earlier, close enough to hook with his toe and drag over, easily remedied. He stepped up, kept a fist in Mitsunari's hair--another convenient off switch--and hip-checked him in the face, mostly gently. He was still half-dressed, pants left after stripping down halfway as he'd peeled Mitsunari out of his armor and started tying him up, and times like these he was glad those pants were roomy. Dragged Mitsunari's cheek against the length of his hard cock through folds of cotton. "There--feel it, feel the heat of it. That's because of you, _you're_ doing that to me. Every time you squirm, every unseemly cry."

Mitsunari went through about two rounds of startled stillness and mouthing needily at Motochika's cock without even particularly realizing it, bouncing from one to the other as words sank in. Ended with his lower lip and a hint of teeth dragging across cotton as he murmured, fervent and straining for him, "thank you, my Lord, thank you for allowing me to please you."

"Welcome. Very." Mitsunari made a strangled noise of sheer want as he pulled back and stepped down, so eager that he grabbed for Motochika's thumb with his teeth as he trailed it down his cheek. "In good time. You'll have a chance to please me in that way too tonight, I promise."

Mitsunari accepted that, stilled, let Motochika stroke his cheek. Setting things out like that tended to calm him, he'd accept that it was coming whenever his lord willed it and let it fall out of his hands entirely.

"But before then--before then I want to hear more of those unseemly cries. Don't hold yourself back, Mitsunari." Not that he _could_ , really, but he always tried so desperately, and his failure wasn't a sin to be punished, not by a long shot.

Mitsunari's breath caught in surprise at that. "Yes, Lord Motochika," he grated out, sounding a little bit lost--and then it cut off in a groan as Motochika slid hands down his chest to find his nipples again, tugging and twisting roughly, just how he liked it. Motochika kicked the crate out of the way, sank to his knees, didn't take his hands off him for a second. Reached for his cock, hard and more than ready, scooted closer and dragged his tongue round the head, sliding fingers down to gently cradle his balls as he mercilessly sought out tender spots.

Mitsunari, predictably, got twitchy when somebody else tried to do his job. "Lord Motochika--you needn't--"

"I needn't?" Motochika kissed just under the head as he pulled back enough to answer. "This is the pleasure I'm giving you right now--take it."

He could _feel_ Mitsunari's cock twitch against his lips as the order went straight to his gut. "Yes, Lord Motochika--" and that was all he got out before the ragged moan as Motochika dove back in, blowing him properly now. Moans turning to raw cries of sheer pleasure as Motochika set eagerly to work, closing his eye and humming with concentration.

Mitsunari wouldn't last long like this, but Motochika hardly gave a damn. The man had sex like he did anything else, lightning fast to the draw and not half slow to set himself for a second blow, he was hardly worried about wearing him out too fast. He splayed a hand over his ass, dug nails in, and dragged him deep, throat working. Drank in his groans and cries, the helpless shudders in the rope as he rushed to orgasm, blind and groundless, nothing he could do but take pleasure where it was given. Low purr of sheer satisfaction around his cock only added to the sensation, he knew.

Mitsunari came in a rush with a sharp yell and a trailing groan, like it was wrenched out of him, and Motochika swallowed it in one messy gulp. He'd hardly mind a facial, really, but scrubbing come out of the eyepatch was a pain--things one learned when fucking Date Masamune. Motochika slowly, gently pulled off his cock, rocked back on his heels, and just looked up at him where he hung, running a hand up his side, fond satisfaction. The few seconds of stunned, mindless bliss after orgasm was almost more gratifying than the actual too-quick explosion, Motochika'd found. The way he'd moan under his hands as if he'd actually figured out how to enjoy being touched for a minute or two.

"My...my Lord..."

He splayed a palm over his heart, could almost feel it beating far too fast. "I'm nowhere near done with you, don't worry." Caught him by the chin for another kiss, slow and deep, drawing it out long enough that Mitsunari remembered to put his teeth away and more or less managed to kiss back--and gave a faint muffled sputter, no doubt from the sheer filthiness of tasting himself in his lord's mouth.

"I am grateful for your indulgence, it is more than I deserve," he managed, when Motochika finally let him go, and he just cupped his cheek fondly in one hand for a moment.

"My pleasure too, remember. I'm indulging both of us, that's the plan." He slid a thumb between his lips for a moment to distract him, grinned to feel him nipping at it without thought or hesitation. Let his hands wander as he circled him, ducking under the ropes that anchored him with easy grace, never breaking contact. Not with him blindfolded, not for a second. Fortunately he was a goddamn expert at flicking his jar of lube open one-handed and slicking up his fingers. Mitsunari's cock would be too tender to the touch for a bit yet, but his ass was another matter--if anything, it helped to make him come first. Man could be a size queen once he got warmed up, which left him wondering things he didn't want to wonder about Toyotomi Hideyoshi, but oh, he took warming up.

Mitsunari gasped with a sudden tremor as Motochika trailed slick fingers down to circle his hole. Probably hadn't even occurred to him how helplessly spread out and on display he was, easy access. He hissed, hands clenching and unclenching in thin air behind him, let his head hang low and groaned as Motochika slid a finger in, slow and gentle. Still tight as hell, but opening fast, raw jolts through his whole body as he relaxed. Aggressively. Only Mitsunari could relax aggressively, really, if he could move he'd be backing onto his hand, eager to be used, comfort be damned. But he couldn't move, and Motochika was a mechanic who understood the benefits of lubrication far, far too well, so he would have to put up with a slow, sensual preparation.

Plus slow and sensual tended to discombobulate Mitsunari entirely and leave him writhing and whimpering with sheer bewildered desperation. _Bonuses_. Not that he could writhe much, but that only made his ragged cries more wild. Motochika grinned to himself, gently worked his fingers deeper, felt Mitsunari's heedless moans go straight to his cock. He'd have to hold out, it was going be worth it. So worth it.

"Lord Motochika, please--please grant me permission--"

"To beg?" Hell, that had been a good day when he finally made sense of Mitsunari's fondness for begging, it'd bothered him for a while, but no longer. But they were hardly set up to do it properly, with Mitsunari on his knees before him, Motochika's thumb tracing his lips between frantic tumbles of pleading words--and besides, he had plans. He kissed his thigh fondly, voice not unkind. "You may if you like, but it won't change anything." Mitsunari shook with arousal, ass twitching around his hand. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes--please, my Lord, take your pleasure in me, use me as you wish--"

He _did_ feel fantastic around his fingers, tight and hot and slick. Not that his cock would be going in there right now. Plans. There was a reason he wanted him very, very thoroughly prepared this time. "I'm going to be giving you something new tonight, Mitsunari. Something I think you'll like."

"I am ready," Mitsunari choked out in a rush. "Whatever you wish to do with my body--it is yours to take--"

"Mm. Good. You'll be taken, all right." He kept his fingers in him, twisting slow and deep, and nudged his toybox closer with his toe to rummage with his free hand. He had a couple different dildos that would work for this--a few of them that he'd picked here and there up over the years, most of them he'd made--but really, right now he wanted the largest Mitsunari could take comfortably, which was pretty damn large, all things considered. With a nice little curve to hit all the best spots. He palmed it with his fingering hand, lubed it until it dripped, and gently eased the head in, giving it a slow twist for sheer sensation as it slid deeper.

Mitsunari gave a long, guttural, utterly unwitting groan that sounded like pure sex, and his legs shook in the ropes.

"That's not me," Motochika said, nuzzling his leg as he slid the dildo home, gave a long slow stroke or two. On the off chance that Mitsunari had actually noticed and was wondering. It wasn't the first time he'd used a toy on him--that had been a very confusing night for him--but, well, he wasn't the most observant of men. "I'm saving my cock for your mouth, I want to feel you groaning around me with this in your ass." A sharp little shove to punctuate--and to make sure he had enough lube to for it to slide easy.

"As you--wish--" Mitsunari panted. "It would--be more than I deserve, to serve you so--!"

Motochika laughed, low and wicked, even as he drizzled a little more lube on the base of the thing just to be on the safe side. "As your lord, I'd deem this to be exactly what you deserve."

The perfect moment, really, to reach over to the machine lurking in the corner behind Mitsunari and pull over the adjustable arm that latched onto the base of the dildo.

Not that Mitsunari had any idea what was about to happen to him. He wouldn't even have thought a hunk of machinery in the corner of the captain's cabin to be anything out of the ordinary--which, to be fair, it wasn't, a dozen different machines of both practical and salacious varieties had been in and out during the time he'd been living on the Fugaku. This one, the best of Motochika's fucking machines, had been in there for the better part of the month as he tinkered with it, into the hold when he needed more space for Ieyasu's bulky enthusiasm, back out when Masamune got curious. Looked pretty innocent, really, until you hooked a dildo onto its arm. Motochika'd already oiled it up for the night, picked out the cam to control the pace--he could get away with a pretty deep stroke with a guy tied to it, and he knew how Mitsunari liked it, fast in and slower out for proper ramming. He flipped out the foot treadle that let him set the pace, slid the dildo home to the hilt until Mitsunari groaned low and needy, and set that as the deepest point of the stroke. Hummed to himself as he worked, felt confused tension ramping up in Mitsunari's thin body like a tangible force.

"Nearly set, don't worry...all right, here you go."

He reached for the throttle with a _grin_ and started up the engine on the slow side, it wasn't the loudest thing he'd ever built but it was hardly silent--and Mitsunari made a wild, choked noise on the first stroke, went rigid in the ropes.

"Lord Motochika--?"

"Yeah, like I said, that's not me." He folded a hand over the back of Mitsunari's neck. "It's a machine, one of my favorite toys. Built to fuck you, until I decide you've had your fill."

Mitsunari seemed legitimately tongue-tied for several strokes, ragged strangled gasps on each. "Such a--strange frivolity--"

"Is it?" Motochika couldn't help a bit of a laugh, low and dark, reached to hook stray ends of rope running from Mitsunari's thighs to the frame of the machine, make extra sure he couldn't thrash away from it. "It's going to keep using you, Mitsunari, unyielding, merciless, I could leave it on until you begged for mercy--all for my pleasure."

Mitsunari's hands spasmed and clenched, he whimpered against his side, muscles in his ass jumping as he tried his darndest, desperate and heedless, to fuck the air. Breathed something raw in the back of his throat about _what he deserved_ that Motochika didn't catch and that probably didn't even make sense to him.

Yeah, he didn't figure it'd be hard to sell him on this part after all. Most people he would've asked, but it was Mitsunari, there was no damn point to it. He bent to leave tooth marks on the back of Mitsunari's neck as he writhed in vain, stopped writhing and went limp, writhed again. Grinned against the knobs of his spine, breathed the smell of him deep. He'd figured he'd like it, but it was another thing to see him spread open and squirming on his gadgetry.

The thing about machines, Motochika knew well, was that they never let up and they never change. And normally when people are fucking, it's always changing, all those little shifts, speeding up and slowing down. Bodies expect that, bodies get surprised when it doesn't happen, and then adjust to the steady mechanical sensation, and for a little while it seems manageable--almost boring, even--until one relentless stroke after another piles up, inexorable, and tips a fellow right over into sheer overload. Overload that the engine'll keep plowing right through, merciless, just how Mitsunari liked it.

Which was why Mitsunari shuddered in the ropes and _screamed_ after a minute or two, sudden and raw. Kept screaming, cock hard and twitching in thin air, flush of arousal spreading down his throat, vivid against his deathly pale skin.

"Oh, there you go...fucking gorgeous." Motochika bit his lip against a groan of his own, fisted his hand against his hip to keep it off his cock--fucking hell, he felt like he could come just from watching that--and ran his other hand over Mitsunari's face, leaned down to kiss his temples, fond and adoring even as he howled. Then his mouth, not that Mitsunari could manage to kiss back properly around his full-throated screams, but Motochika swallowed them hungrily, dragged at his lower lip with his teeth, kissed him deep and fierce until Mitsunari shook and whined into his mouth.

And as he trailed off the kiss, slow and tender, he felt out with his toe for the treadle and nudged the machine a few gears faster.

They could probably hear Mitsunari all the way over in Chugoku. Motochika couldn't take his eyes off him; he started fumbling his pants off, one-handed and far too late. Mitsunari thrashed, wailed, strained against his bonds until cords stood out in his neck, and Motochika hopped back onto the crate, caught Mitsunari's hair in one hand and a ceiling beam in the other to steady himself, dragged his mouth somewhere near his cock, and held on for dear life. He was pretty sure even this wouldn't slow down how cock-hungry Mitsunari could get when he got going, and sure thing, it didn't. Mitsunari groaned in sheer gratitude, shuddered violently as he tried to leap forward, and swallowed him to the root. And promptly screamed around him on the next stroke, a hum of vibration that ran right through his cock, and Motochika clung white-knuckled to the ceiling and threw his head back and lost himself for a moment.

Fuck, he was close, even if he wanted this to last forever. Kept his hand tangled tight in Mitsunari's hair so he could drag him off enough to breathe every few strokes, wouldn't do to let him actually choke himself. Mitsunari was too out of his mind to actually manage much in the way of blowing, but really, that was fine, far as Motochika was concerned, meant he could enjoy this for more than a few bare minutes. Mitsunari was slack-jawed around him with all his muffled screams, but still struggling to take as much of him as he could, throat working around him, tight and hot, and Motochika tightened his hand at the back of his head and matched the rhythm of the machine and fucked his face, pressing deep as he could take. Mitsunari whined around his cock, somehow managed to swallow him deeper on the way in, and went all but limp in overwhelmed surrender. Radiating bliss, abandoning himself to be used.

"Good boy," Motochika got out between groans, legs shaking as Mitsunari's throat dragged him closer to the edge, and Mitsunari made some ragged, raw noise around his cock, and trembled in the ropes, and came, sudden, with a howl like it caught him by surprise too. "Fuck _ffuck_ , Mitsunari--" Hell, he must have been on the brink for a while before one last thing tipped him over. Motochika dragged him off enough to breathe by sheer force of will--feeling Mitsunari scream round his cock as he came had damn well near set him off too--

Mitsunari clung to the head of his cock with lips and tongue, flushed and ecstatic, a few ragged whines as the aftershocks ran through him, driven by the machine still working away behind him--and then he screamed again, raw, desperate, even louder than before. Because it _was_ still going, merciless, the same pounding rhythm that had driven him to orgasm without Motochika even touching his cock. The treadle was out of reach, and Mitsunari was shrieking mindless with sheer overload and looked about as gorgeous as Motochika had ever seen him.

" _Fuck_ ," Motochika groaned, stopped thinking, and drove himself forward, because if Mitsunari screaming round his cock as he came hadn't sent him over the edge, Mitsunari howling as he was fucked right through the tender agony of just-come sensitivity would. And did. He came so hard he felt his spine tingle, legs shaking, would've doubled over if he hadn't been holding onto the ceiling, and if there was an extra roar or two mixed in with Mitsunari's, neither of them exactly noticed. "Gods, you're amazing, fabulous, good job--" he muttered, close to babbling as the last few jolts wrenched him, cradling the back of Mitsunari's head.

Mitsunari, for his part, was too busy screaming to do almost anything else. He'd struggled, close to choked, gulped some of it but hadn't managed the rest. Motochika caught his breath, let go of the ceiling as soon as he stopped swaying, dropped off the crate. He reached for the treadle soon as he was steady, slid it down as slow as it went, the thing would probably blow a gear against Mitsunari's leg if he switched it off in high gear--

"Please," Mitsunari croaked, head sagging with sheer exhaustion, trembling with each stroke. "Please...please..."

Motochika paused, crouched, cupped his face in both hands. He looked utterly wrecked, chin dripping, voice cracked. "Mitsunari?"

"Please...I beg you...please don't...stop..."

Motochika blinked, felt his breath catch in his throat. Hell. Mitsunari was going to drive them _both_ out of their minds. He crouched to brush his lips against his cheek, kissing him softly. "Want me to wring you dry, hm? Push you to your limits, wear you out until you can't take it anymore?"

Mitsunari _whimpered_.

"My pleasure," Motochika murmured, all but a purr, and left the machine how it was, nice and slow, and gathered come off his chin to feed to him. Mitsunari swallowed his fingers hungrily, lathed them with his tongue better than he'd managed with his cock, even as he kept moaning loud enough to wake the dead. He could _almost_ manage with the machine slowed down, almost, raw shudders through his body like he'd fly apart again at any moment. Good for now; he could drive him out of his skull again after he remembered how to breathe. Would take him a bit to recover for a third, after all, even Mitsunari. But Motochika could wait, _oh_ could he wait, even with languor settling into his body. No reason he couldn't make himself comfortable. He kicked the crate a little closer, sat pretty much under him, close enough to slide an arm around his shoulders and all but cradle him where he hung. Close enough to add more lube if he reached, rest a toe on the treadles to play with the speed how he liked, run his hands all over him.

Mitsunari trembled and panted under his hands, uneasy with caressing as ever, but far too undone to tense up. Nothing to do but feel it, breathe with it. Jagged groans as he tugged at his nipples, ran nails down his thigh, a little roughness to give him something familiar. Motochika nuzzled the crook of his neck, sweaty with exhaustion, couldn't keep his hands off him. "Every inch mine," he murmured in Mitsunari's ear, and Mitsunari breathed exultant nonsense and surrendered yet more ground to pleasure, utterly lost and willing.

Time stopped mattering. Didn't matter how long until Mitsunari got it up again, long as he made those noises, long as he hung unflinching from even the gentlest touch. Long as the dildo was still sliding slick and smooth, slow lazy strokes, Motochika managed to pry his hands off Mitsunari long enough to add more lube, went right back to fondling him, kissed him deep and thorough as he did and felt him moan shameless into his mouth. Sometime, sometime Mitsunari's cock began to stir, and sometime after that Motochika nudged the machine a gear faster, eventually two, a steady pounding, until Mitsunari's legs shook and spasmed and he cried out full-throated. Until his reddened cock was hard, probably still a touch oversensitive, but oh, that would be part of the fun right now, wouldn't it, part of how he'd push him to the edge.

Motochika drizzled lube on his hand, cradled the back of his neck as he reached for his cock all slick and sweet, and drank in his stunned, ragged cry, the tremor of sheer pleasure that ran through him. Curled his hand around him, exploring like a virgin, slow and sensual, down to cup his balls and trail his fingers between them and the dildo pounding his ass. Back up to tease his thumb round the head, every movement of his hand dragging some new noise out of Mitsunari, so responsive right now that he could play him like a shamisen. Long, long wails as he stroked him painstakingly slow, as Mitsunari vibrated between relentless fucking and the most tender, loving handjob Motochika had ever imagined he could handle, both merciless, building until he screamed, kept screaming, again, louder...

Mitsunari was the world, the entire world, all his, even the machine that kept whirring away behind him was all but irrelevant--fuck, he could watch this forever. Wanted to see his eyes, meet his gaze and not let him hide a thing, but didn't dare risk shaking him out of it by taking off the blindfold--next time, next time, he thought distantly as he traced Mitsunari's lips fondly, maybe next time he could bear Motochika's scrutiny as he writhed in abandon, without a blindfold to hide behind. Broken words amongst the shrieks, mostly _please_ , like he didn't know whether to beg for mercy or beg for more. He bit his fingers hard, clenched with a whine for a moment, broke off for another shriek, and Motochika just grinned the biggest, stupidest grin and let him. Kept his hand on his cock slow, teasing, dragging it out long as Mitsunari could bear, until he was desperately trying to buck his hips into his hand for more. Ready, more than ready.

Motochika felt his heart in his throat, couldn't take his eyes off him. Teased the slit on the head of his cock, the sensitive underside, mercilessly gentle, traced his tongue over his own lips. Splayed his other hand at the base of Mitsunari's throat, pressing his face close and all but holding his breath--and reached for the treadle, and kicked it into high gear, and Mitsunari screamed like he'd never screamed before. Heedless, mind blown, thrashing as wild as the ropes let him, but the knots held fast and the engine ran strong and there was no escape, not from any of it. Motochika stroked him a little faster, more firmly--so close to jerking him off in earnest and throwing him over the brink in a rush, but oh, every second like this was incredible, hovering on the edge, he'd just have to wait until it all built up enough to shatter the last shred of Mitsunari's control--

His orgasm took him slow, screechingly intense, a few long weak spurts into Motochika's hand as he wrung dry, whole body in paroxysm in time with the machine. Longer than he'd ever seen him take to come before, and achingly entrancing to watch, and this time he could keep a toe on the treadle and slow it down even as he finished coming, carrying him through as he flew apart, stroking the back of his neck as he wailed in ecstasy.

His orgasm left him limp as a rag in the ropes and panting for air like a man fresh off a battlefield, face slack in sheer bliss.

It was over.

Motochika found the power lever, turned it off, hands moving almost of their own accord, not taking his eyes off him. Almost thought he was unconscious until he gave a weary sigh and shiver as the machine came to a stop. He kissed his temple. "You can just relax now, I'll get you undone."

Said quite a lot, really, that Mitsunari was too blissed out to even protest that his lord had to take care of him. Motochika gathered focus, scooted around behind him. He stayed limp as Motochika slowly eased the dildo free, just exhausted whimpers as it left him empty and worn out. Still limp as he loosened the ropes on his legs, let him down gently still all harnessed up with his hands behind his back, and bundled him into his lap. He trembled as he touched down, toppled right into Motochika's arms like his legs didn't work anymore, and finally managed some vague muttered protest that he had no need of such things, but Motochika just hummed and petted him relentlessly.

"For my sake, then, I like this."

Mitsunari gasped into his armpit, this was an utterly confusing idea no matter how many times he was presented with it, but he was too worn out to even get riled up. Which was good, because Motochika would wager he needed this, maybe even wanted it on some level he wasn't aware of--which was most of them, really.

"Then--then I shall--" He faltered. Good gods, yes, he'd gotten him too fucked silly to spew incredibly formal nonsense in the afterglow. Motochika counted it as a victory for the ages.

"Yes. You shall." He rested a hand in his hair, wrapped him up warm and close, helpless and nerveless, bare skin against bare skin. Eventually, gently, unknotted the blindfold, let it slide off by inches because it wouldn't have even occurred to Mitsunari how lamplight would leave him flinching after utter darkness. The silk was damp--not surprising really, given how hard he'd fucked his throat. Mitsunari stared intensely at some swatch of Motochika's chest, eyes wide and a little wild, as if reality was more than he expected.

Motochika reached for a bowl of tea he'd left on hand, rather cold by now, brought it to Mitsunari's mouth. "Drink. Slow, but drink."

Mitsunari caught his breath in bewilderment, parted his lips, obediently let Motochika pour tea into him--he'd need it after all that screaming, whether or not he knew it.

"I," he fumbled after the bowl was empty, after a long few moments. "I have...pleased you?"

"Very, very much." Motochika brushed his forelock aside to kiss his forehead. "You did very well."

Mitsunari gave some tiny whimper of gratitude and twitched in his arms, and the sheer relieved satisfaction on his face made Motochika's heart warm in his chest.

"And did all this please you?" Motochika murmured. Not sure whether he could expect a real answer, even now, but Mitsunari dragged in a shaky breath.

"...yes...that was..."

He ran out of words. Slowly, slowly closed his eyes again as Motochika cradled him, and made tiny raw noises in the back of his throat as he settled in his arms, some of which might have been thank yous. Motochika braced his back against the cabin wall with a bright, loopy smile and let him rest. Best answer he could have hoped for.

In a few minutes, he realized Mitsunari had turned his head, so slow he hadn't noticed, to press his ear against his bare chest. Listening to his heartbeat, like a man who knew too many dead people.

In a few more minutes, he was fast asleep, still bound, limp as a newborn kitten. Motochika grinned, kissed the top of his head again now that he was too far gone to protest. In a little bit he'd undo him the rest of the way, wipe the come off and bed him down, let him sleep off the last two or three days of dogged wakefulness. Tomorrow he'd teach him how to clean out and oil the machine and make him swab his come off the deck, he'd get a kick out of that. But for now, well. Mitsunari curling close and sticking his face into his chest was about as rare, and about as much work, as Mitsunari spread out on display in wanton abandon. And he was damn well going to enjoy them both.

When he undid the last of the ropes and eased Mitsunari's arms around to massage his shoulders and biceps, after so long bound, he didn't wake. But he stirred in his sleep and made some little mumble and looped his arms around Motochika's shoulders when he picked up his slight body and headed for the hammock. And didn't let go.

Well. It wasn't like he couldn't use a good night's sleep too. And he knew how to fit a few extra bodies into a hammock. He settled himself, curled Mitsunari beside him, looped an arm around him in return and let him use his shoulder for a pillow. Would probably give him a start when he woke, but, well, worth it.

All worth it.


End file.
